


Heavy In Your Arms

by outoftheashes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dean Winchester in Hell, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Post-Season/Series 03, Prompt Fill, Rape/Non-con Elements, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/pseuds/outoftheashes
Summary: Dean’s got quite the tolerance for pain and torture. Alastair breaks him with kindness.
Relationships: Alastair/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 74
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo, SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020





	Heavy In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn-masquerade 2020 and bthb + touch starved.
> 
> There’s no brutal rape happening here - but that doesn’t mean this whole thing isn’t deceptive and gross. Because it most certainly is. I’d caution that anyone uncomfortable with consent issues click the back button. People who love darkfic might be a tad disappointed because this doesn’t quite meet those standards. Darkfic-lite, maybe?

Dean knows the routine now. Same song, different day. Different form of torture.

“Hello, boy,” Alastair says, offering Dean a delighted, bloody smile. “My, you look uncomfortable. Would you like to come off the rack?”

“If getting off the rack is code for picking up your razor and slicing into a single soul, then no,” Dean says, gritting his teeth. He’s not in too much pain today, not yet. His body is mostly whole again, a fresh canvas for whatever horrors Alastair has in store for him.

“Oh, Dean,” Alastair laughs. It’s an uncomfortable whistling sound that feels more like a violation than proof of happiness. “I do enjoy your wit and humor.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

Alastair snaps his fingers and Dean’s no longer dangling from the rack. Instead, he’s cradled in Alastair’s arms. He holds Dean close to his chest like they’re a family. Or lovers. “I thought you might like a bath.”

“I’m dreaming,” Dean decides, huffing out a laugh as Alastair begins to carry him out of the room full of wailing souls. “This isn’t real.”

“Nonsense. You know full well that no soul sleeps in Hell,” Alastair says sweetly, nuzzling the top of Dean’s head. He gives him a careful kiss on the forehead. “Try to relax.”

* * *

Alastair lowers Dean into the water and Dean waits for the punchline. This must be the part where Alastair drowns him. Alastair will hold him under and wait until Dean stops thrashing and -

“Hush, boy. Don’t be afraid.” A cloth materializes onto Alastair’s hand and he lathers it with soap (no, it’s gotta be acid) and lovingly drags it along Dean’s arm.

Oh.

It’s… not acid. His skin doesn’t bubble or fall away. Holes don’t appear in his flesh. He’s being made clean. He’s cleaner than he’s been in years. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Alastair moves the cloth to Dean’s chest, his stomach. He hums to himself, something without a name and Dean’s okay with that. At least it’s not _Cheek to Cheek._

“The vague bullshit is really annoying,” Dean grouses but, inside, he’s at war with himself. It’s been so long since he’s been touched with any shred of gentleness and he’s fucking starved for it - even from a demonic piece of shit. That’s how far he’s fallen.

“I don’t see how I’ve been vague, son. I told you I wanted to bathe you - and here you are. You simply need to take a breath and enjoy yourself,” Alastair says, his hand shifting lower.

It’s so close. Mere inches away from Dean’s cock. A whine slips free from his lips, his dick perking at even the suggestion of being touched without violence.

Alastair chuckles and pulls his hand away. “You can take it from here.”

Shame colors Dean’s cheeks as he grabs the washcloth, keenly aware that if Alastair had touched his cock, it would’ve been the first time Dean would have allowed it without a fight.

* * *

Dean’s in a large, welcoming bed with soft, luxurious sheets. Alastair’s chambers. Dean hadn’t known bedrooms even existed here. It’s Hell, after all. Hell is a prison made blood, flesh, bones, and fear.

And yet Alastair has a safe, secret room away from it all.

Dean hasn’t decided if he likes it yet or not.

“Dean, my boy, you look beautiful in my bed,” Alastair croons and crawls into the bed with Dean. He tugs Dean close, enveloping him in a soft, warm hug. “I brought you chocolates.”

Dean blinks. “I… what?”

Alastair drops a bite-sized chocolate in Dean’s palm. “Try it.”

Dean hesitates but pops the chocolate in his mouth when Alastair gazes at him expectantly. He moans at the taste, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys the flavors dancing on his tongue. "Holy shit, that's good."

"Of course you think it's good. You'd eat candy for breakfast if I'd let you," a familiar voice says.

“Sam?” Dean asks, his eyes shooting open. Alastair is nowhere to be found. “What are you doing here? It… no, it can’t be you, you’re not supposed to _be_ here -”

“Shh, hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m good. I’m safe,” Sam hushes Dean with a finger to his trembling lips. “I just miss you.”

“Sam.” Dean chokes back a sob. “You better not be dead, I swear to God -”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about me.” Sam places a tender kiss on Dean’s forehead.

“Are you fucking with me? Don’t you know by now that I can’t stop worrying? It’s my job.”

“Can you do me a favor?” Sam asks as if Dean hasn’t said a fucking word. He drags his fingertips along Dean’s bare arms. It’s intimate. Gentle. Not at all what he should be letting his brother do to him. But it’s almost as if Sam knows his weakness and he’s touching Dean _because_ he knows that Dean’s craving it. Closeness with someone who won’t tear him apart.

“Anything, Sammy.”

“Look out for yourself. Don’t try to save anyone. You _can’t_ save anyone, it’s Hell.”

Dean frowns because that’s not something his Sammy would say. “I can’t do that.”

Sam sighs through his nose. “You don’t really have a choice, Dean.”

“There’s always a choice,” Dean says, even though he’s not sure he believes it.

“I have to go.” Sam rolls away from Dean and Dean’s body starts to wail. It mourns the loss of his brother.

“But you just got here.”

“Don’t worry. You haven’t seen the last of me.”

* * *

Dean’s unsure of how much time has passed, how long he’s been cooped up in Alastair’s chambers. He figured Alastair would at least want to walk him; put him on a leash and parade him in front of any demon who would bother to look their way - but that hasn’t been the case. Alastair has insisted on showering Dean with gifts, attention, and love. He’s insisted that Dean stay in bed unless it’s agreed upon that he needs a bath.

“I think you deserve a reward.” Alastair kisses his way up to Dean’s naked thighs.

“You’ve given me nothing _but_ rewards,” Dean says, squirming beneath Alastair’s mouth. He wants out of here. He wants to walk around and explore - but another part of him is starved for this contact, so much that whenever he gets a taste, he wants it more instead of less.

Alastair ignores Dean and begins jerking him off, slow and lazy.

“Fuck,” Dean whines as squeezes his eyes shut. Alastair had never done this before. Sure, he’d teased Dean, but he’d never truly taken it anywhere - until now. Dean’s grateful he doesn’t need to resist anymore, he doesn’t need to put up a fight. He can just give in. “Thank you.”

Alastair hums in approval and jacks Dean off faster so Dean must have said the right thing. He whimpers, hips jittery and lifts up into Alastair’s fingers. It goes on like that for a while. Alastair slows down and speeds up depending on how close Dean is, keeping him on the edge.

“You can come whenever you’d like,” Alastair says.

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He shoots off in Alastar’s hand. Onto Dean’s own stomach, his eyes shut tight as he does it.

“Beautiful,” Sam says.

“Sam!” Dean’s eyes snap open and he hides his dick. “What the fuck?”

Sam smirks, entirely unbothered. “You really wanna play that game, Dean?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean demands even though he can already see what Sam means. He’s not moving away. He’s not putting up any kind of fight beyond the barest hint of modesty. Sam could do anything to him right now and Dean wouldn’t run.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t what you wanted. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t what you needed.” Sam bends down and drags his tongue through the mess on Dean’s stomach and Dean _moans_.

Dean _likes_ it. He lets him and _likes_ it.

* * *

Sam is everywhere.

He pins Dean to the bed and kisses him everywhere Dean needs and wants to be kissed, every place his skin aches for it. Sam kisses Dean like Dean’s a living, breathing map of the world and he’s set on travelling to as many spots as possible. He kisses Dean like he’s never known or wanted anything else.

“Sam,” Dean whines.

His brother laughs softly and kisses his cheek. “I love you like this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sam pulls back slightly, gazing down at him. “You tired of being Alastair’s pet yet? Because you could make this stop. You could do what he wants. Have a purpose down here beyond… this.”

Dean swallows back the bile rising in his throat and shakes his head. “No. Sammy, I can’t.”

Sam drops a kiss on Dean’s waiting mouth and slides the whole length of his cock into Dean’s ass. “I can fix that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt - Dean’s got quite the tolerance for pain and torture. Alastair breaks him with kindness. Bonus points if you can work Sam into it somehow.
> 
> ** 
> 
> Comments and kudos feed me.
> 
> Title was taken from a song of the same name: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_eOmvM-4zc


End file.
